


To Dissect the Core of Love (Oh What A Mighty Blow, The Lion Roars)

by Lesbianna



Series: Tales of Lions and Snakes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (But described really creepy because Jules thinks he's creepy as fuck), A lot of snake/lion stuff, Department of Mysteries, Except um, Gen, Gray Harry, Harry Is A Horcrux, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Harry's snake Eriss is here too, Jules POV, Minor Character Death, Nagini isn't mentioned by name but she's the one who bites Arthur so I thought I'd include her, Sarcasm and Slytherin, Sibling Rivalry, Slytherin Harry, The Snake Attack before Christmas, WBWL, it's kind of major, most of it's conversation between Harry and Jules, of a sort, read sunmoonandstars books first if you want to understand Harry and Jules' dynamic better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesbianna/pseuds/Lesbianna
Summary: The snake twisted dangerously around the wrist of the young man’s arm, ready to strike. Jules fingered his wand deep in his pockets, glancing down at the glittering eyes, then at Harry’s face once again.“Why? What’s in there?“The Department of Mysteries is a strange place,” Harry offered coolly. Jules looked down to check for the snake again, but it was gone, almost as if it had just been an illusion.“It’s said that time itself is contained in the Department. That there is a different universe behind one of the doors.”Would Harry exist in that universe? Would Jules?-A bargain leads to knowledge, but knowledge doesn't stop venom from killing.





	To Dissect the Core of Love (Oh What A Mighty Blow, The Lion Roars)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunmoonandstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunmoonandstars/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Harry Potter and the Den of Snakes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12608820) by [sunmoonandstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunmoonandstars/pseuds/sunmoonandstars). 
  * Inspired by [Harry Potter and the Monster of Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708852) by [sunmoonandstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunmoonandstars/pseuds/sunmoonandstars). 
  * Inspired by [Harry Potter and the Truth of the Traitor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200282) by [sunmoonandstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunmoonandstars/pseuds/sunmoonandstars). 



> This is a prequel to Killing Snakes and takes place in 5th year.

_**JULES** _

Jules didn’t like his brother. He really, really didn’t. His brother was a prat, and quite possibly evil. Harry didn’t like Malfoy any more than Jules did, but that didn’t mean much – that crap about _‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’_ was ridiculous.

Jules didn’t like his brother, and that was a fact.

But the other Potter almost always knew what was going on before Jules – he always had an uncanny way of _knowing_. He’d bargained his way to many things, knew people who knew people.

And Jules had listened in on conversations with the Order, had stolen Extendable Ears from the twins, had listened behind doors, and slowly things had pieced themselves together. He needed to figure out what there was in the Department of Mysteries because Dumbledore would never tell him, no matter how much he’d prodded and pushed; he had a feeling Dumbledore didn’t want him to know until he was fighting the final battle, at the end.

Dumbledore wanted him to follow his rules. Too darn bad – he needed to know, he needed to prepare. This was his world, his home, his battle, his destiny, what he’d always been brought up to do.

But no one knew what mysteries the Department held.

He looked out the window at the end of the corridor, at the flurries of falling snow. They’d go on holiday soon, he mused, thinking of his dad and duck and beautiful ice crystals covering the Potter Mansion’s staircase. He missed it. He wondered if his mom would have liked the prank chandelier that always creaked dangerously like it was going to fall on you when you walked under it on Christmas. His dad said she would have, and he supposed his dad was the one who had known her best.

 When was Harry coming? Should he just go inside? He marched down the corridor, then marched back and forth on a particular spot in front of the wall three times thinking of how he needed a place to see Harry, and then, opposite the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet, a door appeared.

The Room of Requirement had given him what he required.

He took a deep breath to steel himself and opened the dark wooden door; its handle was made of pure gold, he noted absently, as he stepped inside.

The room had been sparsely decorated in dark green and black colors – the walls and the floor were made from rich, dark wood, and Harry was sat, like the pretentious git that he was, in a deep green velvet armchair, and a strange hissing sound coming from him.

Jules let the door fall closed behind him, and stepped forwards. “You’re late,” Harry complained airily, not even looking at him, but rather stroking the arm of the chair.

Jules sighed exasperatedly. “I was waiting for you to show up before I entered. It’s called manners.”

Harry smirked derisively, as Jules stepped closer.

“How _noble_ of you, Julian.”

Jules ground his teeth. The word that was the highest praise from his father and the headmaster sounded like dirt in his brother’s mouth.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Harry,” he said impatiently.

Harry nodded agreeably, getting up from the chair with ease and speaking before Jules.

“I would like to know why you practically assaulted me before potions, declaring your desire to have a private conversation with me.”

“I need knowledge,” Jules told him, flushed, feeling on edge. They were playing at something here, but he didn't know what. Mind games weren't his forte.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but he looked unsurprised, unperturbed.

“And what will you give me in return?”

Of course. Nothing is for free. Not even between brothers. _Especially_ not between brothers. “What do you want?” he asked.

“A future favor from you,” Harry said silkily as he stepped towards him, his cloak billowing slightly behind him as though it was made of dark water.

“I will tell you everything of what I know about the thing you seek knowledge of, and in return you will give me one favor, to be decided in the future,” he said, and as he spoke, he pulled a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink from his pocket, handing it to Jules.

Jules looked at it. It was a contract, detailing the same as what Harry had just said, clearly pre-written. Harry had known all along what Jules wanted from him, had been ready, prepared. Why all the games, then, he wondered. Did Slytherins need to manipulate everything to survive?

With that thought in mind, he checked it over for loopholes Harry could use against him, but it seemed sound.

As he thought of it, a tall desk came into being so that he could sign off on it.

A strange feeling washed over him as he scribbled his name awkwardly and handed it back. He’d always been better at autographs than signatures.

“If either of us does not fulfill the terms of the contact to the best of their abilities, the magic binding us to it will have consequences for them,” Harry said calmly, tucking the parchment away.

Jules felt himself grow cold. There was a wide array of curses one could cast on a contract to make sure it wasn’t broken. None that resulted in death, except for the Unbreakable Vow, and that wasn’t even a curse anyway – but. Still. This was Harry. He should have checked the parchment over for curses and extra binding spells, he had been reckless…

 “What kind of- “

Harry cocked his head.

“Umbridge’s little illegal stunt with the blood quill could almost be pleasant, compared to it.” He smiled.

“But don’t worry. I won’t cash in on anything now.” His voice seemed too cheerful for the eerie atmosphere, somehow making the place creepier. A scaly something slid over his shoulders. Jules let his right hand sink reassuringly into his pocket, grasping his wand. Caution.

He supposed his heart should be beating faster than it was, but – hell, he’d faced down a _basilisk_ when he was _twelve_. Just because he could recognize the danger of the snake, didn’t mean it would scare him enough to slip.  

He chose his words carefully. “I wish to know what it is that is in the Department of Mysteries. And I also wish to know what it is Voldemort wants it for.”

“The Department of Mysteries is not a place for fifteen-year-old students, Julian Potter,” Harry said, his green eyes staring straight at Jules. “It is not even a place for most adults.”

The snake twisted dangerously around the wrist of the young man’s arm, ready to strike. Jules fingered his wand deep in his pockets, glancing down at the glittering eyes, then at Harry’s face once again.

“Why? What’s in there?” he asked, curiosity taking over.

“The Department of Mysteries is a strange place,” Harry offered coolly. Jules looked down to check for the snake again, but it was gone, almost as if it had just been an illusion.

Harry continued talking, his voice pleasant, his eyes as calculating as always, though some new emotion was present too. Jules couldn’t put a name to it.

“It’s said that time itself is contained in the Department. That there is a different universe behind one of the doors.”

Would Harry exist in that universe? Would Jules?

“It’s said that truth can be found there, that prophecies and people’s innermost scarring thoughts live side by side. That there are rooms full of love, and grief, and death. That Phoenixes are born of the strange air of knowledge. Many things are in the Department of Mysteries. The people working there are called Unspeakable for a reason, Jules.” Harry’s eyebrow raised disdainfully as he surveyed the Boy Who Lived and found him lacking.

“As for your other question… There are many things Voldemort could want in there. Perhaps that interesting study they have, of cutting hearts open to dissect the core of love. Oh, imagine, just removing the ability to love from people’s hearts. Now wouldn’t _that_ be a blow against Dumbledore and his precious beliefs that love is the greatest weapon? Or perhaps he’s looking to snare people in the web of their own thoughts, or looking for knowledge greater than himself.”

His eyes were sharp, wolf-like, intelligent. More guarded than a wolf’s though.

“But, what I think is the most likely, is that it’ll somehow have something to do with you, my _dear_ brother.” He said, his smile sharp and biting. “You see, I’ve arrived at the conclusion, that Voldemort is rather like a teenage girl, with how he practically poured his soul into a diary, and how obsessed he is with a rich, famous teenage boy. Would even explain how insane he is. Puberty’s rough, isn’t it?” His teeth glinted, his morbid amusement clear.

Jules wondered if he’d ever looked like that himself – sharp, and cold, even when his cheeks were rounded with the shadow of only being fifteen. He didn’t think so.

They stood for a moment, staring at each other, Harry waiting, perhaps expecting more questions. Jules couldn't find any.

Then Harry turned on his heel and turned towards an inconspicuous door that melted out of nothing, and left calmly, without the decency to as much as say goodbye.

The words _“it’ll somehow have something to do with you, my_ dear _brother”_ seemed to reverberate around Jules’ head, as something else melted into being at Harry’s absence.

He was looking at a mirror, which wasn’t quite a mirror. The dark, messy hair was as messy as Jules’, and the school tie shone with red and gold, but the glasses were square, the scar on his forehead more jagged and his eyes weren’t hazel like Jules’, but green.

At first glance though, one would mistake the Harry in the mirror for Jules.

Magical mirrors. He’d had enough of those to last him a lifetime by the time he was eleven, he thought hotly, feeling contempt rise like bile within him.

He bared his teeth at it as it dissolved into the mist of the magical room once again. The last thing he saw was the well-known sneer of the Slytherin brother’s reflection gleaming at him as the image disappeared along with the mirror.

He turned to the door he’d entered the room from and left resolutely, his feet clacking against the stone floor as he entered the corridor on the seventh floor once again.

* * *

The next morning, towards the end of breakfast, Ron got a letter. It was written on the parchment the Weasleys always used at home; not the luxurious vellum the Potters used, the surface a little rougher, and if it hadn’t already been clear that the letter was from the Weasley family, it would have become even more obvious from the owl Errol, which almost faceplanted into Dean’s pumpkin-juice.

“Wonder why mom’s writing now, she’s never written so shortly before school break in the past…“ Ron said cheerily, chewing his last bite of greasy sausage and wiped his fingers ineffectively on a napkin before grabbing the letter from the owl’s leg.

“Huh. No wax seal. She’s been in a hurry,” Ron remarked, as he looked at the envelope.

Errol staggered to his feet, looking dizzy, but then took flight again, heading towards the Slytherin table.

Jules had never seen that bird fly again so quickly. He felt foreboding creep over him, but for what, he didn’t know.

Ron opened the letter, and Jules could see that moment when the world stopped turning for Ronald Weasley.  He threw the letter down on the table as though burned, and with a few stumbling steps he fell out of his seat and started running.

He had never seen Ron so pale and sickly looking, as when he stormed out of the Great Hall, his hands shaking and his lips turning bloodless, that December morning.

Seamus snatched up the letter from the table, his eyes turning wild as he read the words, and his voice was brittle and unnatural as he tried to speak.

“Ron’s dad,”

Seamus looked terrified of his own words as he spoke them, and he repeated, his words sounding like they were coming from far away.

“Ron’s dad – He- he was found in the Ministry. Dead, by snakebite.”

Dead, by snakebite.

Arthur Weasley. Dead, by snakebite. Jules had grown up with him and his quirky nature, had grown up with rubber ducks and “eclecticity”.

On Jules 5th birthday, when Jules had run away from the paparazzi and their endless flashing lights, he’d run to Arthur, who had sat with him on his knee, and had read him the tales of Beedle the Bard, and then showed him a rubber duck. When he was eight, uncle Arthur had split apart a Ford Anglia and started to enchant the different parts, telling Jules that he wanted the car to be able to fly, and he really mustn’t tell Molly, okay Jules? Don’t tell Molly.

Dead, by snakebite.

Never again would he hear Arthur Weasley squeal delightedly about batteries; never again would he tease him about his balding head; never again would he get to make Arthur Weasley smile by gifting him with a pair of cables as a birthday present, nor would he ever again hear Arthur Weasley explain what he interpreted the meaning of The Fountain of Fair Fortune to be.

Never again – because Arthur was dead. He was dead and gone… Killed in the dead of night by a slithering snake.

All of this passed through Jules’ head in a fraction of a second, a thousand sweet memories that would turn bitter soon, once reality truly hit.

He looked up, glancing towards the Slytherin table.

Perhaps it was an instinctive reaction because of the mention of snakes, perhaps it was his subconscious telling him to pay attention; no matter what it was, he looked straight into a pair of bespectacled eyes.

Harry Potter looked at him, his eyes looking greener than they should have from across the hall. Studying him. Looking away.

Something told Jules that Harry had _known._ (He always knew.) He’d known about Arthur. He’d known he was dead. He felt his rage bubble and rage. He wanted to tear Harry apart, wanted to rip him to pieces; everything felt so painful like his insides were suddenly tearing themselves to pieces.

He fought to catch his breath, it felt stuck inside him, almost frozen, and he tried to croak out something, he didn’t even know what, and stumbled from the table, running after his best friend.

* * *

A pale-faced redhaired girl in immaculate robes cried out in despair as she ran out of the Great Hall, her pointy hat falling to the ground without her taking any notice, a few shreds of parchment clutched in her hands.

It lay on the ground, its emerald green inner lining lit up by the enchanted ceiling, gleaming like a killing curse the second before it hits its target, ripping souls and families apart as easily as ripping the seams.

**Author's Note:**

> I looked through my old documents today and found this, almost finished. I finished it, finally, after several months of promising myself that I'd get around to it.  
> Sunmoonandstars, another fic for your fic. Hope you liked it! I enjoy Sarcasm and Slytherin immensely, and I just love all your characters so much.  
> Once again, no clue to whether this is compliant or not with sunmoonandstars plans.  
> (It probably isn't, let's be real. Us mere mortals could never begin to understand what that genius has in store for us.)


End file.
